


Stripped of Everything

by NicoleBrandy



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: F/M, GTA, GTA lemon, Smut, Uncle T
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleBrandy/pseuds/NicoleBrandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You find yourself in a series of unfortunate events, the last of them landing you a job as a stripper.  It wasn't exactly your choice, but you can't complain.  The pay is shit, your co-workers are bitches, and your boss is a psychopath, but hey.  It beats being homeless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to the Beginning

This story starts off the way these tales all seem to: _It wasn't supposed to be like this._ Be that as it may, it most certainly is like this, and there's really not a goddamn thing you can do about it now. Before? Definitely. Now you're tied to a chair with a gun barrel pointed directly at your forehead, though, so there doesn't seem to be any hope for you. But let's get back to the beginning, where it all began...

* * *

Life really wasn't working out for you. On multiple occasions over the past three days had you actually considered committing suicide. The only thing that held you back was the fact that the sea was too disgusting to drown yourself in and you were too much of a pussy to make that jump off of a building. Yeah. You were one of those girls: the preppy, high-class, 'as if' teenage daddy's girl who had daddy's credit card along with your own private jet not a month ago. That was before you decided life at home was holding you back, however; before you ran away from your family with your 27-year-old gangbanger of a boyfriend who promised he'd take care of you. Well, let's call him your ex, now. It wasn't long before you ran away from your ex as well, albeit it was for justifiable reasons. You couldn't return to your family in fear that he would send some goons to your home and burn it (and everyone inside) to the ground. In the end, you wound up wandering the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back... along with some money you helped yourself to from your ex's drug franchise. Hey, it was to survive, and you were barely managing even that.

Tired, lost, and hungry, you decided to take a break from foraging and plop a seat down in front of some random building that had music blaring from the inside. Feeling your stomach rumble, you whined and placed a hand over it, trying to soothe the pang of hunger by rubbing it. If anything it made the growling worse, and you suddenly felt like crying. Tears welled in your eyes when you remembered what little money you had left. Thoughts ran through your mind that terrified you and caused the pool of tears to get fuller.

_I'm going to have to rob someone or something... I'm no criminal, but... I need to survive..._

An ironic chuckle left your lips as you thought about how silly you sounded. After all, not ten hours ago were you standing on the edge of a bridge, trying to convince yourself to jump. The memory made you depressed when you remembered how no one seemed to care about the dirty homeless girl about to commit suicide. No one cared that you wanted to take your life. No one cared about you. Period. You were alone in the world with no one to hold you, comfort you, etc. etc.Thinking more about your depressing situation made you more depressed, and you wanted nothing more than a beer. Of course you were underage, but you had certainly had your fair share of alcohol and hangovers. You took a look at the club behind you, towards the entrance. It seemed busy.

_Maybe they'll be so busy tending to the other customers, they won't card me..._

Figuring it was worth a shot (really, what else did you have to lose?), you sighed and wiped away your tears. Making yourself as presentable as possible in your three-day-old outfit, you took a deep breath and approached the entrance. A nervous feeling welled within your gut as the bouncer glanced at you, but thankfully he didn't say anything. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you entered the club and walked along the entrance hallway. Your eyes widened when you got inside. This wasn't a club at all. It was a stripper joint! You felt your cheeks burn as some men eyed you curiously, probably wondering why a girl like you would be in a place like this. Ducking your head, you made a beeline for the bar, planning on buying a beer and then hightailing it out of there. The lady behind the counter didn't seem too friendly. She was working the bar all by herself, tending to all the drunken customers with a very frazzled expression. At one point, a man - who you guessed to be a regular - said something that apparently pissed her off, for she leaned over the counter to scream in his face. With a huff of her breath, the woman furiously began wiping at a spill on the counter as you cautiously approached. Immediately her eyes snapped up to stare into yours impatiently, and she promptly snapped, "Whattaya want?" You winced a bit at the lady's harsh question (rather, demand, as it sounded like), then hurriedly gave your answer once you remembered why you had approached her in the first place.

"Ah, just a-... a bottle of Pißwasser, please," came your shaky reply. When she eyed you suspiciously, you gave an awkward smile, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Suddenly the woman spoke again, and her words made a lump form in your throat.

"Who are you? I haven't seen you around here before, and you look far too young to be in a place like this..." Instantly you began panicking, and your guilty eyes slid from left to right. You were painfully aware of how quiet the bar seemed to be now, and cursed your luck for it getting that way and ruining your plan.

"Um..." you stuttered, glancing back up at the woman, "I... I'm new here." Hearing this, the woman quirked an eyebrow skeptically.

"You're the new dancer?" she asked. Before even thinking about the consequences, you nodded rapidly. This made the woman stand up straight, fold her arms across her chest, and hum in deep thought as she looked you over. "...Well, you certainly got the figure for it..." she admitted. Then she leaned forward again, causing you to shrink back a bit. "But aren't you supposed to be up there?" came the dreaded question, as she pointed behind you to the stage. You glanced over your shoulder at a blonde woman with barely anything covering herself, spinning on a pole expertly. Biting your lip, you turned back to the woman and shrugged.

"I'm, uh... just here for orientation?" you offered, your explanation coming out more of a question than an answer. This made the barmaid hum again in mock consideration. She seemed to be humoring you now.

"I see..." the woman stated, deadpanned. "So, if I were to get my manager up here, he could verify that you are indeed the new stripper. Is that it?" This made your eyes widen, and immediately you began shaking your hands in front of you, as if begging for mercy.

"N- No, that won't be necessary, I-... I think I'll just be leaving now," you tried to insist, but the woman held up a finger to cut you off as she raised a phone to her ear.

"Actually, it is necessary, Miss, and you are going to stay right there while I call Mister Phillips," she said with irritation in her tone. You sighed, burying your face in your hands as you dreaded what the next five minutes had in store for you. Would you be arrested? Have your parents called to pick you up, like some high schooler who got caught playing hooky? And what would they say if they got you, after three months of being away from them without a word?

_I told you that boyfriend of yours was no good! He's a dirty liar and a hoodlum whom my daughter has no right to see! Look at the mess you've gotten yourself into! How many times have I told you--_

"Ah, Mister Phillips!" The sudden voice made you jump a bit and raise your head to look back at the barmaid. She was smirking at you now; you had definitely been caught. Another voice - a rough, angry-sounding, borderline psychopathic roar from an older man - made you nearly fall back on your feet as it blared behind you.

"Yeah, yeah, what is it now?" the gruff voice snapped to the barmaid. He barely seemed to notice you.

"This one," the bartender began, pointing an accusatory finger at you, "claims she is the new... entertainer." This made your eyes widen, and you whipped your head around to gape at the man, having to tilt it back a bit just to look up into his eyes. Said eyes were now looking you over rather curiously, and you flushed at how they seemed to rest on your more feminine tidbits.

"...'S'that so..." the apparent Mister Phillips mused, circling around you and examining every inch of you. You weren't sure what to do, so you just stood there, eyes glued to the floor in shame as you awaited your punishment. Suddenly the man spoke again, this time to you: something you didn't expect. "What's your name, sweet cheeks?" he asked, his eyes resting on yours now. Clearing your throat, you chanced a glance at him and replied to his question honestly, not seeing any reason to lie. The man listened to this, then his gaze dropped to rest on your chest absently as he nodded thoughtfully. "[Y/N]..." he repeated aloud to himself, as if testing the way it rolled off his tongue. You couldn't help but shiver at how... rough he made your name sound.

Now he was touching you. You felt uncomfortable, but it wasn't like he was touching your privates. He merely lifted your arms, felt your muscles, spread your legs a bit to do the same to them, etc. It was strange, but at least he wasn't molesting you. There came another question, and you were wildly confused as to what the Hell this man was doing. "Can ya dance?" he asked you, to which you nodded, afraid to actually speak. He stood up straight now, looking you over again before returning his eyes to pierce into your own. "Can ya take off your clothes?" At this, you blushed, looking around uncomfortably. Seeing your nervous reaction, the man let out a hearty cackle, which he had to throw his head back to emit. After laughing for a good ten straight seconds, he returned his gaze to you and sneered, "Not now, you dope!" This made you frown at the insult, and you were about to retort, but then he spoke again, cutting you off. "For the V.I.P. members... If someone were to ask for a private dance, would you be willing to give them one?" You blinked. Were you? After a few moments of consideration, you cleared your throat again.

"Ah... I-... I suppose," came your timid reply. Then this Mister Phillips clapped you on the shoulder, grinning wildly.

"Excellent! Ya got the job! Now, get home and shower up, or I'll be forced to dub you Stinky," your new boss (apparently) stated simply, already walking past you and headed for the door. Without even thinking, your hands shot out to grasp his, and you prevented him from leaving.

"Wait!" you cried. The man whipped his head around to gawk at his captured wrist, and then he lifted his eyes to scowl at you. Immediately regretting such a bold action, you coughed awkwardly and let him go, lowering your gaze to be floor. "S- Sorry..." you mumbled. "It's just... Um... I don't have a home to go to at the moment... so..."

Hearing this, the man turned to you, cutting you off once again. "Whoa whoa whoa. Back the truck up, here..." he muttered. Then he pointed a finger at you as he asked, unbelievingly, "You're homeless?..."

"Well, now I am, yes," you hurriedly explained, "I, um... I had some problems with my boyfriend, and-... I used to live with him, but... Now he's my ex..." The more you babbled, the more foolish you felt for spilling your life story to some guy you didn't even know. It made you increasingly uncomfortable with how he stayed quiet and listened to every detail, as if he actually cared; as if he actually gave a shit about you. Thankfully, Mister Phillips cut you off again, welcomingly this time.

"So, in other words, you're homeless, you're smelly, _and_ you're single?" he asked, causing you to frown a bit. Why would he care about your relationship status? Still, despite your discrepancies, you nodded simply in response, earning a smirk from the strange man. "Well, darlin', I'll tell ya what... You can come live with me for a little while, yea? At least until we get you back on them pretty little feet of yours." Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor upon hearing this offer. Before you could protest, however, the man spoke again, seeming to sense your reluctance, "Now, don't get the wrong idea, okay? I'm not letting you stay for free... I mean, my home isn't exactly a five-star hotel, but there's still bills to be paid, so I'm not just running a soup kitchen and letting you hunker down in there for no charge. No, no, no sir-y!" Again, before you could protest (which was starting to get annoying), he stuck a finger at you and concluded, "You're gonna pay me! Got it?"

Huffing a breath, you smacked the finger out from in front of your face and briskly replied, "But I don't have any money!"

Mister Phillips thought for a moment, then smirked a tad, sending goosebumps across your skin. Something told you that you should never get on this man's bad side. "Sweet cheeks," your new boss sighed, walking to your side and looping an arm around your waist as he led you to the door, "I'm sure we can work something out..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Chapter one finished! The next chapter will be longer and advance the plot a tad more, and I'm hoping the third chapter will contain les smuts. So! Comment what you thought so far, and stay tuned~!


	2. Abrupt Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My, what a situation you've ended up in. It really is odd, the idea of living with this man... After all, you don't even know the guy's first name!

There was a nagging voice in your head, screaming at you that this was wrong.  You completely agreed with said voice, but what other choice did you have?  Not an hour before, you were out on the streets, dirt poor, rummaging through dumpsters and begging for change just to earn your dinner.  At least now you were promised shelter, food, and a job.  You still smelled something awful, but your apparent new boss didn't really seem to mind, as he led you to his beaten up pick-up truck and had you sit in the passenger seat.  Sure, he made a few jabbing remarks to you about it, as he pulled out of the parking lot and swerved onto the road.  You couldn't help but worry at his erratic style of driving; it wasn't exactly what you were used to.  No, what you were used to was having your chauffeur cart you around in your limo like the pretty little princess you pretended to be for the first 16 years of your life.  Now you were seated in a rusty old Canis Bodhi being driven by a psychopathic redneck who dressed like a hobo and drove like a maniac.  You gasped and squealed every time he nearly clipped (and sometimes did clip) the cars he brushed past, as he weaved in and out of the lanes.  Also you felt a rising sense of anxiety well within you the higher the speedometer climbed.  It only got worse when Mister Phillips pulled onto the highway, and the G-force was so intense that you felt your whole backside practically being pinned against your seat.  Fingernails clutching into the armrest, you gritted your teeth and gaped in horror as the scenery flew by in a blur of colors.  "Aren't you driving a little wrecklessly?!"  you eventually gathered the courage and sense to shriek, barely managing to turn your head to gawk at your boss like the crazy person you believed he was.  At your shrill complaint, the man merely snickered and - much to your dismay - took his eyes off the road to smirk at you.

"What's the matter, sweet cheeks?" the brunet hummed innocently, only glancing back at the road for a moment (thank God it was so void of other cars, now that you were retreating away from society and into the desert) before looking back at you.  "Can't handle a bit of fun?"  For some reason, this mocking statement made you irritated, and it felt like this guy - this  _Mister Phillips_ \- was taunting you; challenging you.  Harrumphing, you sat up as straight as you possibly could and folded your arms across your chest, turning your head away indignantly.

"I can so..." you mumbled, more in a pout than you would care to admit.  Hearing him snicker again, you whipped your head back around to glare at him and snap defensively, "I simply don't care to died in a tragic car accident, thank you very much!"  It only agitated you more when Mister Phillips merely shook his head and continued to snicker in amusement.  Before you could say anything that might result in an argument, you turned your head away to glare at the road as it zoomed by.  After about five straight minutes of nothing but Channel X blaring through the speakers, you piped up, in a grumbling sort of voice, "So... Who are you, anyway?"

"The name's Trevor Phillips, sweetie," the man answered without missing a beat.  You repeated the name over and over again in your head, fitting the name to his face.  It suited him, you thought.  The sound of Trevor's voice caused you to lift your head to look at him, and you found him staring at you expectantly.  Worried about him crashing, you cleared your throat and spoke.

"Pardon?"

"Your name, I said," the older man reiterated, glancing at the road briefly and once again returning his sights to you.  It made you nervous, how careless he was while he drove.  "I need a full name to put on my list of entertainers, sweetheart."  You paused at this, debating on whether or not giving your full name would raise any alarms.  After all, your last name wasn't all too common, and you'd practically be giving away your whole identity (and therefore possibly putting your family in danger) to some stranger.  The name Trevor Phillips raised alarms in your own head, after all.  You had heard about someone previously causing your father some problems in his business, and that name seemed to fit the bill... but you couldn't remember.  All your life you hadn't really paid much attention to your father's work; it dulled you.  The street life was much more exciting to you - that is until you had gotten involved with the leader of a drug business.  You'd never do that again, you swore to yourself.

"Ah... Right," you mumbled, nodding.  Finally you decided to answer him, more or less to get his eyes off of you and back on the road as quickly as possible.  "...It's [Y/N]... [Y/N] Percival."  This statement made Trevor quirk a brow and do a double take towards you.  Once again his eyes were locked on you, and you were more afraid of the sudden fire in his eyes than the possibility of you both crashing.

"...Did you say  _Percival?_..." he murmured skeptically.  Hesitating, you bit your lip, then nodded slowly.  He was quiet for a moment, eyes returning to the road as he seemed to dissolve into deep thought.  Then he looked up at you again, and his insistent attitude made you question if what you had admitted was wise to reveal.  "What's your father's name?" came the second question, more like a command than an inquisition.  Damn.  You had been found out.  

"It's Don," you responded.

"Don. Percival." _  
_

"Yup."

" _The_ Don Percival." _  
_

"You got it."

" _The_ Don Percival, leader and founder of  _The_ Merryweather Security Consulting,  _the_  army of the New World Order?   _That_ Don Percival?" 

Now you were fed up and - frankly - uncomfortable with all the questions and disbelief.  "Why does that interest you so much?" you suddenly snapped, irritated as you turned to scowl at him.  Trevor blinked, then shook his head and mumbled something incoherent as the truck continuously sped down the road.  For the remainder of the ride, conversation was absent.  You were thankful that the barrage of questions finally stopped, but at the same time you couldn't quell that knot of nerves in your gut.  Something told you that revealing who exactly you were (and consequently who exactly your father was) was a bad idea.  If only you had listened to that little voice in your head and had gotten out while you still possibly could.

* * *

You awoke sometime later, slightly disoriented by the fact that you had even fallen asleep in the first place.  Your eyelids creaked apart just slightly when you did decide to actually get up, but then they flew wide open when you noticed something.  You had no idea where the fuck you were, how the fuck you got there, or how long you had been out.  Instantly you sat up, frantically looking around with no signs of finding out.  The room was filthy, the walls were metal, and the air was dry and pungent with musk.  It looked like you were in a trailer.

_Well why the fuck am I here_ _?!_

Not wanting to spend another minute wherever the Hell you were, you swung your legs over the side of the bed you had been in and stood.  Then you squealed loudly and shivered as the cool air of the room hit you - everywhere.  Not a moment later you heard the apparent bedroom door creak open, and you instinctively grabbed one of the messy sheets you had previously been covered with to shield your bare form from view.  In sauntered none other than Mister Trevor Phillips, donned in nothing but socks and the same pair of dirty blue jeans he had on before.

"Well, good evenin' t'you, Princess," the man greeted you, and by the way his words were slurred and his mock bow caused him to stumble, you could conclude that he was drunk.  Wonderful.

"Trevor, what the  _fuck_ ," you demanded, eyes narrowed at him defensively.  Something within you told you that this man was terrifying, that you shouldn't be speaking to him in such a manner, but the rest of you decided you really didn't care.  After all, this guy was almost comically drunk off his ass, and he could barely stand.  Even you could take him in a fight, you decided, if it came down to that.  At your harsh words, trevor quirked a brow and tutted his finger at you, shaking his head.

"Ah, ah, ahhh!" the man chastised you mockingly, causing you to roll your eyes.  "That's  _Mister Phillips_ , t'you, young lady," he corrected as he stumbled his way over to you.  Cautiously, you backed away, but he just kept coming closer.  "...Orrrr,  _Sir_ , if you prefer..."  Closer he came, further you went.  The wall was inching up behind you, and you felt like an animal being cornered like some kind of prey.  "... _orrrr_ , maybeeee, even..."  The man suddenly took a large step towards you, causing you to stumble backwards.  A grunt left your lips as your back hit the wall, and you froze when Trevor slammed his palm against it beside your head.  You were literally cornered, naked, nothing keeping the two of you apart but the sheet and a few inches of air.  "... _Uncle T_ ," the man growled in conclusion, licking his lips.  Nearly gagging at the strong smell of beer lingering in his breath, you turned your head away to both avert your gaze and hold your breath.  Thankfully, though, after a few moments of eyeing you with a predatory glint in his eyes, Trevor suddenly stepped away, walking towards the door casually.  "I'll leave it t'you to decide, yea?"

Now that you were no longer cornered, you felt your sense of bravery restored a bit and managed to return your gaze to glare at the man once more.  "Where the fuck am I, how the fuck did I get here, and-... Where the fuck are my clothes?!" you barked, causing him to turn back to you and tap his chin thoughtfully.  His eyes rolled up to the ceiling, which he stared at in mock contemplation.  This guy's sarcastic attitude was most certainly going to piss you off.

"Welllll..." the drunk began, after a full thirty seconds of 'thinking,' "we're in my trailer, ya fell asleep on th'drive here, I didn't want t'wake you, I put you t'bed, aaaaand..." Trevor paused, thought for a moment, then returned his gaze to you, now smirking.  "I may or may not have stripped ya down and thrown yer clothes in th'wash."  Another pause.  "Well..."  He looked towards his front door through the doorway of his bedroom.  "I had my assistant do the washin' and shit, 'cuz I'm not about that..."  Then he returned his gaze and smirk to you once more.  "But  _I_ did the stripping part.  You have very nice underwear, by the way.  Lace really suits you."

You stared at Trevor for quite some time, your jaw hanging off its hinge in shock as you tried to process all of that information.  Though you were about to ask Trevor why he would do something like that, he once again cut you off ( _grrrr_...) and turned his back to you, headed for the door again.  "Yerrrr welcome!  Get back t'bed and shower in th'mornin'!  We got shit to do tomorrow."  You felt your anger subside a bit as your curiosity got the best of you, and you took a few steps towards him before he could leave.

"Wait!" you called, having a flashback to the first time you had to stop this dick from walking away from you before giving you a chance to speak.  Reluctantly and impatiently, hand on the doorknob, showing no signs of allowing there to be a lengthy conversation, Trevor thankfully stopped to scowl at you.  Getting used to such a look, you huffed a breath and returned the expression as you inquired, "What do you mean, 'We got shit to do tomorrow'...?  What do we have to do?"

"Well, I need t'see you in action, of course," Trevor replied simply after a burp.  Ignoring the disgusting action (flatulence was icky, you believed), you huffed another impatient breath and glared harder.

"Excuse me?" you retorted, clearly demanding an explanation.

"Honey, you didn't think I was gonna let'cha work in  _my_ club without showing me your skills, were ya?  C'mon, even  _I_ have a reputation to uphold.  Can you imagine if I just pulled in some random girl off the street and gave her a job as a stripper?" Trevor explained.  His words made you quirk a challenging eyebrow, as that is exactly what he had indeed done with you.  Practically reading your expression, the drunken redneck growled and narrowed his eyes.  "Okay.  That is exactly what I did," he admitted.  "But that is why I have to evaluate you, sweet cheeks.  In order to be a stripper at  _my_ club,  _you're_ gonna have t'give _me_ a private show." _  
_

You were sure your cheeks were on fire now.  Trevor wanted you to strip?  For him?!  The thought made you shift uncomfortably and cling more tightly onto the sheet that shielded your form from view.  Your eyes averted themselves and instead fell to the ground, much to Trevor's amusement.  "Trev-... Um, M- Mister Phillips, I don't think that's-" you began, but you were - once again - cut off.

"Sure it is!  Now, get some rest.  I'll wake ya in th'mornin'!  I got some errands to run, and this area isn't th'safest place t'be... Psychos everywhere, y'know?  So!  I'm gonna leave this here door locked, aaaaand I'll be back before yer even up.  Kay?  Goodnight!"

With that, Mister Trevor Phillips shut the door behind him.  As he promised, he locked the door from the outside, trapping you in the small room and rendering you his prisoner.  What a strange turn of events your life had taken.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand... DONE! Phew! That took a while... but at least I typed it on a computer this time. The last chapter was typed on my phone, so that's why it was so short. I am pleased with how many hits, kudos, and kind words this fic has gotten already! Keep that up and I may just update every day! :3 (Psssst. There will be smutty smuts in the next chapterrrrr. ;3 )


	3. Showered with Creepiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've made yourself at home at Trevor's trailer... or at least tried to. Too bad he's too much a pervert to let you shower in peace.

Morning came before you were ready to rise.  You hadn't realized how incredibly exhausted you were until you actually had a bed to sleep in.  It didn't come as much of a surprise to you, though.  After all, looking for comfortable places to sleep on the street came with much difficulty to you, so most of the time you simply went without any sleep at all.  That bed was like a gift to you, no matter how musky and disgusting it was.  Just as he said, Mister Phillips had returned home before you were awake.  He himself caught a few hours of shut-eye before he awoke to fetch you.  The bedroom door's lock clicked, and a moment later the door swung open.  Trevor paraded in, looking rather smug as he approached the bed.  He tossed some things on the bed - your outfit, freshly cleaned, along with a bag from a store you would not recognize - and then crouched down beside you.  Unbeknownst to you, the man merely sat there for a few moments longer than necessary, just watching your sleeping face.  On his own face was a mixture of emotions, one being his usual, cocky attitude, while the other was reminiscent of pride.  He seemed to be proud of himself, having you asleep in his bed.  You were of course the daughter of a millionaire - possibly a billionaire... you didn't really care, as long as you had an ample supply of money to spend - so that wasn't too shocking.  Still, Trevor seemed to have some strange fascination with Merryweather in particular, and you had wondered why at first, but gave up and merely accepted the home and job that were offered to you.  Days of being the picky, prissy princess you were raised to be were over; you were nearly an adult, legally, and it was time to start acting like it.  Apparently it was also time for you to wake up, as well, because after a few moments of stalking your sleeping form, Trevor reached over and violently shook you awake.

"[Y/N], WAKE UP, THE TRAILER IS ON FIRE!" the man blared, jolting you awake.  Without thinking, your eyes shot open and you sat up, looking around wildly. 

"WHAT?!" you shrieked, eyes finally stopping to rest on your boss, who was smirking insolently. 

_...That... sadistic **fuck**!!_

Almost instantly you realized that Trevor had been fucking with you, so you narrowed your eyes and threw off your covers.  "You...  _You_..." you growled through gritted teeth, only getting angrier as the bastard merely continued to smirk at you.  As you stood, with your fists clenched at your sides, he rose as well, easily towering over you.  Still he wore that annoyingly arrogant grin, and it pissed you off that he didn't seem the least bit afraid of you.

"Ah? 'I... I,'  _what_ , exactly?" he challenged, placing his own hands on his hips to mock you.  Before you could retort, he leaned forward so that his lips were by your ear, which he growled into, " _Nice tits, by the way_..."

Your eyes went wide.  Your cheeks flushed crimson.  You had forgotten that you were completely naked, and now you were standing there before your boss: naked as the day you were born.  It took you a few moments to react, but suddenly you squealed like a frightened guinea pig, falling on your back onto Trevor's bed once more.  Seeing this, Trevor merely chuckled, eyeing you boldly.  "Think yer skippin' a few steps, darlin'... Ain't I supposed to take you out to dinner first?" he teased, only causing you to go redder in the face.  Humiliated, you grabbed a sheet and threw it over your head to hide your bare form and rosy cheeks.

"Trevor, get  _out_!!" you shouted, voice cracking from the embarrassment.  This command made Trevor harrumph rather indignantly, and he bent over a tad to grab the sheet and yank it away from you. 

"First of all, Princess, it's Mister Phillips, to you," he chided, pulling the sheet just out of your reach when you went to grab it.  With a whine, you stood on your knees and made grabby hands for the fabric, like a toddler being denied a cookie.  This made Trevor chuckle before he continued, "Second of all, you'd better get used to being naked in front of me... and everyone else, for that matter."  Those words made you stop and stare at Trevor.  Your eyes read 'What the fuck,' so Trevor sighed and explained, "Need I remind you of your new...  _position_?"

_Oh, fuck.  I forgot all about that.  I'm... I'm..._

"...I'm a stripper..." you finished aloud, sinking back onto your rear in defeat.  Your eyes fell to the floor and you felt like crying again.  It felt humiliating just admitting your fate, and you couldn't possibly imagine actually having to strip in front of people.  A look up at Trevor caught him nodding at you, like a wise monk who was confirming your words.  Huffing a tense breath, you shook your head and looked at the man with pleading eyes.  "Trevor, I..." you began, but Trevor cut you off again.

"Ah!" he tutted hurriedly, wagging a finger.  " _Mister Phillips_ ," he corrected you.  You sighed and nodded.

"M- Mister Phillips..." you mumbled.  Then you sighed again and shook your head once more before continuing, "I don't think I can do it... I mean, you have to pay a fee to work at those clubs, don't you?"

"Welllll,  _normally_ , yyyyyeeees," Mister Phillips relinquished, choosing each word carefully as he shifted on his feet, "...but I'm makin' an exception for now.  After all, I told you we would work something out, yea?  I have the perfect way for us to do that."  Trevor grinned at his own words, but they stopped there.  You stared at him expectantly, and he stared back, wondering why you weren't speaking.  After a moment he realized you expected him to continue, so he hurriedly changed the subject.  "Anyway!  I gotcha somethin', Princess."

A bough of curiosity sprouted as the man began digging into that bag from earlier.  He pushed aside some tissue paper that covered the objects within, then his eyes lit up when he saw it.  "Aha!  Here we go!" Trevor exclaimed, pulling out something that made your heart drop and your eyes go wide.  In his hands was a less-than-appropriate garment.  It was a corset-style top: pink velvet with black, lacy mesh adorning the surface.  It looked like something that some kind of dominatrix would wear.  "Oh, and that's not all," the man announced before you could comment.  He set the top aside before pulling out more from the bag: some black heels, pink thigh-high stockings (along with a garter belt), a black thong, and a black triangle bra.  Now you were practically in shock.  Trevor actually expected you to wear those things??  Well, you were a stripper, after all, but still...

"Well?  What are you waitin' for, darlin'?" the man asked suddenly, jolting you out of your stunned state.  You ripped your eyes away from the clothing he had placed on the bed, now gaping at him rather stupidly.  He was staring at you, waiting.  "Uh, are you going to get dressed, oooor are you going to sit there nekkid all day?"  After a moment, Trevor smirked, rubbing his chin contemplatively as he eyed you hungrily.  "Personally, I'd be fine with either option..." he hummed, eyes resting on your breasts.  You flushed again, but didn't bother covering up.  As he stated before, you'd have to get used to creepy old guys checking you out.  With a defeated sigh, you nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll dress... but... Can I wear my normal clothes for now?" you whined pleadingly, looking back at your boss with puppy eyes.  It relieved you when he shrugged and turned away.  "For the ride there, sure.  You'll just have to change again once we arrive is all," the man stated nonchalantly as he left the room.  You sighed, thankful that you could at least have some dignity on the ride there.  Getting to your feet, you gathered your freshly cleaned outfit, dug around for a relatively clean towel, and found your way to the bathroom.  It wasn't difficult; the trailer couldn't have been more than 100 square feet.  As you got in the tiny room, you shut the door behind you and sighed when you found it didn't lock.  Hopefully Trevor was at least gentlemanly enough to let you have some privacy while you showered.  Setting your clothes on the side of the sink, you turned the shower faucet to the side and felt instantly better at the mere thought of bathing.  You couldn't even wait for the water to get hot before you stepped under it, sighing as you felt the impurities being washed away.

You assumed Trevor had no girlfriend or wife, and if he did she was not living with him; there was only one, half-empty bottle of shampoo/conditioner (which was for men) and a heavily used bar of soap.  Though you decided you would straighten that dilemma out later, you made do with what you had at the moment and used his 2-in-1 men's shampoo.  It smelled good, but it was rather masculine, of course.  Still, you couldn't complain; it was better than smelling like a hobo.  After lathering the substance into your hair, you turned your back to the water and leaned your head back.  Another pleased sigh fell from your lips as the water (which was steaming, by now: something you welcomed with open arms) soaked your locks further.  You ran your fingers through them and helped the shampoo/conditioner to be rinsed out, then stood there for a while under the stream of water.  You were just entering a state of tranquility when a rapid knock at the bathroom door yanked you out of it.  Eyes snapping open, you looked just in time for Trevor to burst in and begin unzipping his jeans hurriedly.  "Sorry, Princess, I gotta  _go_ ," the man grunted.  He faced the toilet and reached in his underwear, but thankfully you averted your eyes before you saw anything.  You huffed as you turned your back towards him, trying to keep your more private parts from view.

"God fucking dammit, Trev--"

"Mister Phillips."

"Fuck off!!" 

You had begun leaning your shoulder against the shower wall, arms folded across your chest as you waited for the intrusive man to finish his business.  Thankfully, after what felt like forever, you heard the sound of his zipper again, signaling that he was done.  Without even turning around, you snorted, "Great, you're done.  Now, if you would kindly leave, that would be--"

"No can do, darlin'," Trevor cut you off yet again.  Instead of the sound of the door shutting, you heard a different noise that made your heart stop beating for a second.  Your boss had casually set down the toilet seat and lid, then took a seat and hunched forward, leaning an elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm.  When you turned your head around to gawk at him, you were shocked to find him seated there,  _staring_  at you.  You two stared at each other for quite some time, each one waiting for the other to speak.  Finally he did, explaining, "You really have to get used to being nude around men you don't know.  Sooo - I'm staying right here, and I'm gonna watch you."  There was an air of finality surrounding Trevor's words like the steam that was now shrouding the room.  It pissed you off, how he made these decisions on his own without even asking for your input.  You didn't hide your agitation as you narrowed your eyes at him, opening your mouth to speak.  _  
_

_Wait... That's exactly what he is expecting me to do... He wants me to argue, to protest, to tell him that I won't stand for it.  I'm not about to just give in and give him what he wants to hear._

With those thoughts in mind, you closed your mouth and settled on scowling at him.  He merely leered back at you silently, so you finally snapped, "Fine!"  Then you turned to face him, and you felt a sick pride welling within you as his eyes widened.  A sadistic smirk crept onto your face without your permission as you turned to the side now.  You continued your shower normally, pretending your boss wasn't in the room, ogling at you with his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth.  The man looked like a bitch in heat, and you couldn't help but feel proud of yourself for making him that way.  Eyes slipping shut, you tilted your head to the side, letting the steaming water blast against a tense bundle of twisted nerves.  A pleased, satisfied moan left your lips at the sensation of your stress literally being washed away.  The noise you made prompted the man across the small room to let out a grunt.  It sounded like he was stifling a groan, and again you smirked.  "Enjoying the show,  _Sir?"_ you teased in a purr, to which Trevor responded with a rapid nod of his head.

"Oh, you bet your sweet little ass, I am!"  the pan growled, and from the corner of your eye you could see him palming himself through his jeans.  You rolled your eyes and scoffed.  He was an animal.  "And by the way: aforementioned 'sweet little ass'?... I mean it.  That is one  _sweet_  little ass you have there," Mister Phillips added.  Used to his perverted remarks by now, you merely chuckled.

"Thanks," you replied jokingly, shaking your head.  It was time to lather your skin in soap, and you couldn't wait.  Turning to look back at the drooling man, you casually asked, "You got any razors I could borrow?  And maybe more soap?"  At the question, Trevor blinked, then thought for a moment and nodded, standing.

"Well, I have one extra razor I haven't used... buuuut it looks like you'll have to use my soap," he responded, handing you the razor he had found after digging through the cabinet for a moment.  You sighed and accepted it, nodding and mumbling your thanks.  Trevor smirked as he sat back down on the toilet, continuing in the shameless touching of himself through his trousers.  "Cheer up, Princess.  That soap's only been on my body a handful of times.  I don't shower often," he 'reassured' you.  You grimaced at his words, but merely shook your head and reluctantly bent down to pick up the bar of soap.  Trevor growled hungrily at this action, for he got quite the view of your bare rear,  " _Damn_ , you have a pretty fucking ass..."  You went red in the cheeks, but forced a scowl onto your cheeks.

"Can I at least shave without the commentary?"  you gnarled without making an attempt to hide the agitation in your tone.  You rolled you eyes again as you lifted a leg to prop your foot against the wall, unknowingly putting your crotch on display.

"Once again, nooo can do, Princess," Trevor stated firmly, shrugging.  "Right now you're training for what you encounter whilst working in my establishment.  And inappropriate comments are something you are definitely going to have to get used to.  No throttling or cursing out my customers, understand?"  You huffed a breath at his words as you glided the bar of soap up and down your leg.  Keeping it out of the water so the suds weren't washed away, you lathered your skin until it was white with soap.

"Yes,  _Sir_ ," you replied sarcastically.  It felt nice, putting the four-blade razor to your skin and cutting away the stubble that had grown out over the past few days.  You flawlessly cleared the hair from both of your legs, feeling every inch of them to make sure you didn't miss a spot.  Trevor watched you as you basically felt yourself up, that predatory glint returning to his eyes.

"I can help you with this part," the man purred, eyes following your every movement as you felt your outer and inner thighs for any hair.  At his words, you merely snorted.

"Yeah.  How about no," came your caustic response, causing him to pout like a little kid.  You sighed, turning your back to him as you rubbed your fingers over the soap and rubbed them into your lower abdomen.  It was like a forest down there, and you would feel disgusting if you just left it like that.  Though you couldn't see it, you could practically feel Trevor leaning left and right, trying to get a better look at what you were doing.  He had his eyebrow quirked in confusion and skepticism.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" he muttered, causing your hand to freeze.  Turning your head around to gawk at him, bewildered, you blinked.

"...I'm  _shaving_ , you fucking  _perv!"_  you spat, disgusted at the thoughts you knew were going through his head.  Your words made Trevor lean back and raise his hands, looking at the ceiling innocently.

"Just checkin'!"  he chirped, causing you to roll your eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day.  As you returned your eyes to where your fingers were, you continued rubbing the soap into your skin, grimacing at how much hair had grown there so quickly.  No time was wasted, for as soon as you deemed yourself soapy enough, you put down the worn bar and got to work.  It took you a few minutes, but before too long, you had shaven yourself clean.  With all the unwelcome filth and hair removed, you felt a whole lot cleanlier, and a satisfied grin spread across your lips as you set the razor down.  Bending down to wash the soap and stubborn hair away, you relished in the feeling of having smooth skin by running your hands up and down your legs.  A glance to the side revealed Trevor had disappeared; he was no longer seated on the toilet, watching your every move.  This relieved you.  With a pleased sigh, you stood, closed your eyes, and let your head drop back, allowing the water to bombard your skin.  That blissful feeling returned to calm your nerves and relax you; you almost felt like falling asleep.

That's when you heard it.  'Twas a horrible sound: it was like a mixture of a cow being strangled to death and that boy popstar fag BJ before he hit puberty.  The noise rang out and bounced off the walls of the tiny trailer, lasting for several moments before dying down.  It made you jump - literally: jump - and look around frantically, like a wild animal caught on the interstate.  After you stood in silence for about a full minute, digesting what you had just heard, you wailed to no one in particular, "What the  _fuck_ was that?!"  When thirty seconds went by without a response, you gave up and continued your shower.  Now it was time to wash your body, and you were giddy with anticipation.  It had been so long since you were able to scrub yourself clean, and now it was time to get that three days' worth of filth off and away.  Picking up the soap again, you twirled the bar in your fingers so that the suds gathered and were soon overflowing over your hands.  Then you put the bar down, rubbed your hands together, and started gliding your palms and fingers all over your body.  A pleased "mmm" or a satisfied "ahh" could be heard occasionally as you gently massaged the body wash into your skin.  You had just started working the soap into your chest when Trevor poked his head in the doorway and caught you in the most unfortunate position: grabbing your own breasts.

"Hey, Princess, we're leavin' in ten, so-..." Trevor's words trailed off as he froze, eyes wide and glued to your form, which had frozen as well, the second you heard his voice.  The two of you stared at each other for what felt like hours, though his eyes weren't on your face like yours were on his.  No, of course the perv's eyes locked onto your bare chest as you held your breasts in your hands.  It really wasn't what it looked like, but he was oblivious to this.  Therefore, when he amply drank in the sight before him, he suddenly blinked the shock out of his eyes, which then shot up to meet yours.  Bewildered, he blurted out, "Does this mean I wasted a perfectly good hard-on in secrecy while you were in here feeling up your own tits?!   _Fuck!"_  His words made your face contort with confusion, and you lowered your hands to quirk a wildly confused eyebrow at him.

"You  _what?"_  you snorted, causing his eyes to widen.

"Shit, I said that out loud?  Uh... Fuck."

"That was  _you_  that made that noise?!"

"Fuck.  You heard that?  Fuck...  _Fuck_."

"I thought someone ran over a moose or something--"

"ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF MY NATIONALITY?!"

"...Uh.  What?"

"Ohhh, sure, compare my orgasms to meese sounds because I'm Canadian, right?  REAL mature of you!"  

This dialogue happened with you lost and entirely perplexed the entire time.  Before you could even question the blushing, apparently Canadian man, he stomped out of the room and trailer, slamming the front door behind him.  The whole way he grumbled things under his breath, something about him being 'American just like everyone else in this shithole' and 'unable to control' his 'sounds of passion.'  You simply stood there under the water (which had meanwhile washed away all the soap, rendering you spotless) for some time, speechless and terribly confused.  Eventually you shook your head, baffled, deciding you would never understand the man that just stormed out, and turned the faucet until the water was reduced to a leaky drip.  Huffing a breath, you wrung what water you could out of your hair before stepping out and using your towel to wipe the excess droplets off your skin.  Wrapping the towel around you and securing it, you stepped out of the bathroom with your clothes in hand, searching for some lotion to put on your legs.  It was a habit you had formed since you started shaving, for you had decided when you were little that razor burn wasn't pleasant.  Fortunately you came across a bottle, and you had to ignore the context clues when you found it beside a dirty mag on Trevor's sofa.  

_Poor fuck.  He can't even afford more than a few bikini shots to jack off to?  It must suck to be that poor._

As the thought crossed you, you paused.

_...Wait.  I'm broke, too._

Huffing a breath, you felt yourself deflate a little as you remembered your situation.  Hearing a car horn, you rose your brows in confusion and went to peek out the front door.  Trevor was outside in his shitty truck, glaring at you impatiently.  "Come  _on_ , Princess!  We gotta go!" he hollered, more serious than he usually was.  Furrowing your brows, you nodded and shut the door.  Hurriedly you got dressed in the clothes you had arrived in and did what you could to dry off your hair as much as you could.  Briefly primping in the nearest mirror, you groaned like an annoyed teenager (because, well, that's exactly what you were) when you heard a constant honk from Trevor's truck.  Again, displaying just how old you were, you hollered with irritation, "I'm coming!  Hold on!!"  Rolling your eyes (again), you returned to looking in the mirror until you realized the honking wasn't going to stop.  "Ughhhhh!" you growled in frustration stomping out of the bedroom and out the front door.  You slammed it behind you much like Trevor did earlier, stomping up to the truck like a pouting child.  Wordlessly, you got in the passenger seat and slammed that door, too; you rather enjoyed taking your frustration out on innocent inanimate objects.  Shaking his head and mumbling something again, Trevor put his truck in reverse and backed it up onto the road.

"Hey, be careful!" you snapped instinctively, breaking your vow of stubborn silence in favor of warning your boss of the car he almost T-boned.  The driver of said car stopped briefly to shake his fist out the window, yell something angrily in Spanish, and then sped off.  You turned your head to scowl at Trevor.  "You could've hurt that poor man!"  you chided, gesturing wildly in the fleeing car's direction.  Trevor merely waved away your concern with his hand, snorting.

"Yeah, yeah, and I wish I had!  'Poor man'... Tck!  Goddamn alien is what he is!  It's fuckers like that that make this country the way it is: a big, steaming pile of  _shit,"_  the man responded as he continued backing up, in the process nearly colliding with another car.  You huffed an exasperated breath and buried your face in your palm, deciding to stay quiet for the entire ride.  It wasn't worth arguing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so... There was no smut. *cringes* Don't hurt me!! D: There will be in the next chapter... Honestly this one was just a filler... hahh. I'm putting too much detail and the chapters are getting progressively longer... BUT! That means you shall receive extremely descriptive smutty smuts in the next chapter. NEXT CHAPTER. I promise. Ily. Stay tuned. Kthxbai.


	4. "Daddy's Little Princess"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, get on with it."  
> "...Get on with what?"  
> "Take off your shirt."  
> "What?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it's been a while. I've been super busy with school and work. Gomen, gomen. But at least there's smuts, right? Enjoy those. That's some good shit right dere mm good shiet. Good smuts ri dere if i do say so myself. Also this chapter is significantly longer than the rest.

Upon arriving at the club, Trevor parked his truck out front and hopped out, motioning you to follow. With a reluctant and nervous sigh, you did, unconsciously clutching onto the bags in your hands more tightly. It was clear you were hesitant by the way you stared at the door as if it were the very gate to Hell. Still, you managed to quell your inhibitions enough to trail behind your boss, who led you into the joint. Thankfully, it was empty, though you were confused by this. Apparently your curious scan of the quiet club was not unnoticed by Trevor, for he turned to you and explained, "I had it closed for the next two hours, mmkay? That way we won't have to worry about the customers during your training." As the man turned away and approached the bar, behind which that lady from yesterday stood, you furrowed your brows nervously.

"Uh... 'Training'...?" you repeated, obviously unsettled. Trevor merely nodded as he popped the cap off of a beer and chugged down half of it in one swig. You couldn't help but be at least a little bit impressed at the action. You were more of a sipper than a chugger. Then again, the fact that this man (the owner of the 'establishment' you were apparently going to be working at) was fixated on drinking at - you glanced at the nearest clock - ten in the morning really made you uncomfortable. It didn't exactly make you feel safe around the guy, considering the fact that you were crashing at his house.

"Yyyyupperooney!" Mister Phillips drawled, nodding again. "I gotta see you dance before I let you work in my club, Princess." At his own words, Trevor then raised a hand to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully as he stared up at the ceiling with a contemplative expression. "Hm... Y'know what? That'll work," he stated, looking back at you with a feral grin. "So it's settled, then! Your, uh... _alias_... shall be Princess!" The man's words made you quirk a testy brow.

"...'Alias'...? Alias for what?" you questioned, glancing briefly at the bottle Trevor had placed on the counter behind him. God, how you wanted a beer. Maybe if you were drunk enough, you thought, you wouldn't mind as much while having to dance, topless, for this crazy guy.

"You know, your stage name!" Trevor's blaring voice snapped you out of your state, which you were honestly thankful for. You had practically been drooling over the forbidden liquid that you were condemned from. Your boss' words were said as he approached you, turned you around, and led you (with an arm around your waist, preventing your escape) to a doorway to what looked like the VIP lounge. "While the dancers are working here, they are known by a stage name. Yours, I've so kindly decided for you, is Princess." Though you were uncomfortable with the close contact, you didn't exactly have the guts to push this man away. Fuck knew what he would do if you rejected him so boldly like that.

"Um... The other girls," you began, avoiding eye contact as Trevor led you to what seemed to be a dressing room, "what are their, uh, 'stage names'?"

"Well, let's see..." Trevor mumbled, finally removing his arm around your waist as he again looked up at the ceiling in thought, "There's Sapphire, Fufu, Cheetah, Peach, Chastity, Infernus, Nikki..." Trevor's eyes glinted with something strange and unrecognizeable as he growled the last of the names, "...and Juliet." A shudder, which was a tad more violent than you would've cared to admit, rolled down your spine at your boss' unmasked lust towards this woman... this Juliet. For some strange reason, you felt a small tinge of envy creeping up within you. No, you weren't jealous of this chick's assumably sexual relationship with Mister Phillips... but she probably got some sort of special attention in the workplace because of it. Unfortunately, you were unable to hide your oddly strong feeling of jealousy as you folded your arms across your chest and pouted.

  
"I see..." came your cold reply, causing Trevor to raise his brows in surprise at you. Not knowing why you cared as much as you did, you shook your head and huffed a breath. "Anyway..." you mumbled, "What am I supposed to be doing, exactly?" Thankfully, Trevor didn't dwell on your strange behavior any longer, and instead he smirked at your question.

  
"Right, right..." the man hummed, nodding. Then he patted the bags in your hands and said, "Time to get dressed, Princess!" With that, Trevor turned and headed for the lounge exit. At least he was giving you privacy to change. Sighing, you looked in the bags in your hands, a feeling of dread growing as you remembered what you were expected to wear. The thought that occurred to you in that moment made your cheeks flush, as you held up the skimpy little black thong your boss had bought you.

  
_How did he know my size?!_

  
Your cheeks only got redder when you remembered that Trevor had stripped you down and washed your clothes for you. That perv. Shaking your head for the umpteenth time that day, you pushed aside all discouraging thoughts and did as expected of you. Very reluctantly did you slip out of your outfit, and very quickly did you slip on your... uniform. It looked nice on you, hugging your figure and cupping your breasts nicely. However, it was ridiculously revealing, and the sweetheart neckline, you felt, was cut way too low. There was a line separating your breasts, which were gently firmly against each other, and of course said line was entirely visible. Not to mention you were being forced to wear a thong, something you had never worn for any occasion except for surprising your boyfriend every now and again. Ugh. Thinking of that prick made you feel sick to your stomach. He was such a bastard.

Pushing thoughts of your ex out of your head, you checked yourself out in the mirror.  Admittedly, you looked hot.  Your figure looked to be far more mature than that of a 17-year-old, and the body-hugging attire you were donned in did not mask, but accentuate this fact.  In that moment you stopped to think about it.  You had never given Trevor your age, and he never asked.  Wasn't it illegal to hire minors in such a mature environment?  Would it make everyone who saw you... well, topless, a pedophile?  Even the big man himself?  And the biggest question of all: did Trevor even care?  The thought kept you in place for much longer than you intended to be, and there you stood until your boss' blaring voice snapped you out of it.

"Ohhh,  _Prin_ ceeeess!" the man called, like a 1930's husband waiting for dinner.  You scowled into the mirror, irritated by him once again.  Still, you decided to humor him, turning to respond over your shoulder in an uncharacteristically sweet voice.

"Coming, deeear!" came your almost sing-song reply, to which you heard what sounded like a snicker and a mumble of the words  _That's what she said._ Of course you rolled your eyes at that and turned back to the mirror, taking one last look at yourself before turning to leave the room.  However, before you could do so, as if he felt your presence getting nearer, Trevor spoke up, causing you to pause in your movements.

"Alright, so... Here's what yer gonna do.  Turn around, go through that door, down that hallway, and into the next room.  I'll tell you what to do once you get there."

At this, you cocked your lips to the side in confusion.  Still, not wanting to argue with the man you perceived to be rather psychotic, you followed his directions without question.  Unfortunately, doing so put you in a rather awkward position: at the start of the thrust stage, with the opening sounds of 'Scandalous' highlighting your entrance.  Instantly you froze, unsure of what to do, especially when you met eyes with Trevor.  That sick fuck was casually standing at the end of the stage, leaning on the railing with his usual, smug grin plastered across his face.  Of course, your look of shock was immediately replaced with a glare, directed pointedly towards him.  Unsurprisingly, he let out a hearty laugh, lifting his half-empty beer towards you as he spoke.  "You look pretty damn sexy, Princess, but lookin' good is only half the battle.  Let's see you shake that pretty little ass o'yers," Trevor bellowed to you, and by the way his words slurred slightly as he spoke, you were willing to bet he had had more than a few since you left to change.

That flicker of annoyance ignited within you once again when you heard Trevor's words.  He was baiting you, just like he was while you were showering.  It was like he wanted you to protest, to throw a fit, to act like Daddy's little Princess...  but you simply refused to allow yourself.  After all, all your life you had been subjected to a life of protection, of people telling you what to do, what to wear, how to act...  You were a prisoner to your own home and family for all of your life.  That is, until you met who you thought to be the love of your life.  Sure, he was older than you by about ten years.  Sure, he was involved in a gang.  Sure, he sold drugs for a living.  But he cared about you.  He loved you.  Until he started using you...  That was beside the point, though.

 _I'm old enough to make my own decisions._ _My father always treated me like a child, even as I got older.  Everyone always takes one look at me and assumes I can't take care of myself, that I'm still just a kid, that I need to be shielded and hidden from the world.  Daddy's little Princess... What a fucking joke._ _I'll show them.  Now is my time_...

Closing your eyes and bowing your head, you took a moment to prepare yourself.  The opening instrumentals of the song were just ending.  As the first lyrics played, you whipped your head up with a completely changed attitude: determination.

... _to shine._

The lustful glint in your eyes both shocked and silenced your boss, whose posture straightened as you strutted down the runway.  You shocked even yourself as you confidently strode over to one of two poles on either side of the stage; you chose the one on your right.  As you approached the metal beam, you frequently glanced up at Trevor.  The look on his face was priceless.  It was a mixture of shock, awe, and a disgusting amount of lust.  This egged you on, and you wrapped a hand around the pole, hanging from it as you allowed yourself to spin around it.  It was now that you were thankful for those pole dancing classes your ex forced you to take.  Now you had the skills and strength necessary to perform moves normally done only by professionals: the Fairy, the Explosion, the Flying Showgirl - you name it.  At that pole, you felt it to be your goal, hypnotizing the man that was hungrily ogling you.  The tables had turned.  Trevor had forced you onto that damn stage, expecting you duck your head, go red in the face, and run away with your tail between your legs.  Yet here you were, grinding on a pole like a beautiful, sexy, horny animal and making him go weak in the knees.  Never were you one to have a voyeurism kink, but for some reason it almost turned you on, having so much power over a man that seemed to be the type to let no one have control over him.  Around the middle of the song, you decided to take it a step further.

Finally you left the pole, locking eyes with your boss as you flounced down the runway.  Careful were you to make your hips sway more than necessary - to force your chest to bounce more than subtly - to make this bastard fucking  _drool_ over you.  And drooling he most certainly was, eyes wide and intent on focusing on your every asset, but mainly locked with your own eyes.  When you reached the pole in the center of the circular end of the stage, you decided to pull out the slutty moves.  Walking around the pole so that your back was towards it and you were facing (and locking eyes with) Trevor, you reached your arms up and grasped it loosely.  With open legs and bent knees, you dropped to the floor and rose up again, your backside rubbing up and down the pole.  This move did the trick, and Trevor was speechlessly frozen, staring at you with a deliciously stunned expression.  Licking your lips (causing his eyes to carefully follow the action), satisfied with his reaction, you allowed yourself to fall to your knees, then onto all fours.  Towards him on the floor you crawled, slowly, making him practically groan at the sight.  It wasn't until you sat back on your palms and threatened to spread your legs towards him that he cleared his throat, hurriedly turning away.

"Alright, alright!  I get it; you can dance.  Damn..." the man grumbled, rubbing his temples with his index finger and thumb.  Like a smug child, you rose to your feet, giggling triumphantly.

 _Daddy's little Princess, my ass_...

"So, what next,  _Boss?_..." you purred teasingly, hoisting yourself up and over the railing that separated you from the older man.  Said older man grunted in thought, distracted by the beer he was now chugging.  If you didn't know any better (and you did), you would think he was trying to forget what just happened.  Frowning, you almost felt insulted. After all, who would want to forget that performance?  You were incredible, after all!

"Well... Fuck.  I was gonna have you try a lap dance, but..."  Trevor mumbled, running his fingers through what little hair he had left.  Smirk returning to your face, you sauntered a bit closer to him, leaning up so that your lips were near his ear.  Now you made it a point to speak more breathily than normal.

"But what?" you murmured, causing his breath to catch in his throat.  Quickly Trevor stepped away, then turned around to frown at you.  He seemed aggravated, which only made you more amused.

"But nothing.  Let's go," the drunk grouched stubbornly, angrily slamming his empty beer bottle on a nearby table.  Before you could respond, he grabbed your wrist and briskly led you towards a small flight of stairs.  On the way he lectured you, way too irritated for you to take him seriously, "Now when you're not on stage, you'll be down here.  Go round and make sure everyone's having a good time, all that shit.  Then you ask them if they want a private dance, which is forty bucks.  Half of your profits will go to me, by the way, since I'm so generously allowing you to stay at my place for a while...  Anyway.  If they say they want a private dance, you bring 'em here."  Through that same curtained doorway Trevor led you, then you took a different route and ended up in a smaller, curtained room.  It was in a large chair here which he took a seat in, trying his best to relax. Then he looked up at you expectantly and spoke simply.

"Well, get on with it."

Your features contorted with confusion.  "...Get on with what?" you sneered.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?!"

Suddenly you felt rather shy, despite the slutshow you had just put on not a minute ago.  Shifting awkwardly, wringing your hands behind your back, you looked anywhere but at him.  He seemed to be expecting this, and due to his own discomfort but a few moments ago, he, too, was quiet.  Thankfully he didn't tease you or pressure you; he simply stared, waiting, almost bored.  After what felt like an hour of tense silence passed, Trevor spoke in a gentle murmur, too gentle for someone of his character, "Look, Princess, if you can't do this, you can't work here.  It's required."

Finally, after another moment of thought, your eyes shifted to rest on his; they were calm, patient, watching you easily.  That soft expression put you at ease, somehow, and you felt a small flame of confidence light inside you.  Eyes falling to the floor for a moment, you reached up and undid the clasps holding the boneless corset together, one by one.  A quick glance up at Trevor's face made you aware of the tiny flicker of excitement appear on his face.  He was trying not to appear too interested, but his eyes were following your hands' every movement.  Finally the last clasp came undone and your corset fell to the floor, leaving your chest covered only by that black, skimpy triangle bra.  Again you glanced up at Trevor, shyly, wondering if that would be enough.  It took him a good while to realize you weren't continuing, and his skeptical eyes slid upwards to meet your unsure ones.  With raised, unimpressed eyebrows, Trevor mumbled in the same tone as before plus a hint of his usual, satirical attitude, "Keep goin', sweetheart..."

Gulping, your eyes quickly averted themselves from his, and you looked at the floor once again.  The last few notes of the song that had been playing faded away into nothing. Then, instantly inflating your confidence in yourself, you heard the first lyrics to one of your favorites:

 _La la, la, la-a_.

Your shoulders shifted slightly to the beat.

_La la, la, la-a._

Then your hips shook, very subtly, in the same way.

_La la, la, la-a._

You bit your lip, looking back up at Trevor, who still had his eyebrows raised at you.  Then you undid your bra, letting it fall to the floor and leaving your chest, fully exposed, for your boss to gawk at.

 _La la, la, la-a_.

'Only Girl (in the World)' by Rihanna.  This was your jam.

Suddenly that rush of lewdness returned to poison your personality.  Batting your eyelashes, you feigned innocence as you stepped closer to your boss - so close that you could feel his steadily quickening breath on your bare chest.  As if unsure of what to do, he sat there, stiffly, just staring at what happened to be in front of him at the time.  Then he looked up at you with the eyes of an awestruck child.  You smirked, chuckling sensually.  Rolling your body gently to the beat, you found yourself wanting to make him go crazy for you again.  And so you started putting your hands on him.  It was innocent at first: strokes of his cheeks, fingers gliding through his thinning hair, finger ghosting up the length of his neck.  Then your touches started to become less pure.  A hand on his thigh, two as you knelt before him, then you turned your back to him and backed up, arching your spine so that your ass was directly in front of him.  You bent over, looking back to see him struggling not to touch you.  He was gross, old, violent, and insane.  But for some reason - whether it was from the rush of the role you were playing or the fact that you hadn't screwed anyone in over a week, which was a long time for you, you didn't know - you wanted him in that moment.

That was why you reached behind you and placed your hands on your cheeks, spreading them for the man before- er, behind you.  Finally Trevor broke, letting go of whatever self-control he had to grab you and yank you backwards.  You gasped as your back hit his chest, but did not complain as he pulled you into his lap and eagerly started grinding against your ass.  With a sigh from you, your head plopped back to rest on his shoulder as he kissed and bit at your neck; he clearly had been holding back for a while now. "Mmm... Fuck, yer so fuckin' sexy..." Trevor growled into your skin, making you shiver as his gravely voice resonated across your sensitive flesh.  An indecent mewl left your lips before you could stop it, as he grabbed your breasts and massaged them roughly.  Then he inhaled your scent, deeply, and in a low rumble added, "...and you got a nice pair o'tits..."

At this, your face heated up, and you let your eyes slip shut, and you let him do as he pleased with you, because you felt good, too.  "Ah...!  Tr-!  Trev-"

_"Call me Uncle T, baby."_

His words interrupted you, but for once you were okay with that.  For once you were okay with this sick fuck's perverted remarks, breath that smelled of nothing but beer and whatever he ate last, and his tendency to lash out and get violent.  Truthfully, the dirty, rough sex was what you were into, and you felt that this man could give you exactly that.  Eager to please, for once, you mewled again and arched your back, causing him to reach down and yank your hips down and hold you against him.  "Mmm!  Uncle T...!" you corrected yourself in a breathy moan, causing him to hiss a breath through his teeth.  Clearly, being called that turned him on, so you decided to use it to your advantage.  Reaching your arms behind you, you looped them around Trevor's neck, holding him close as he continued his assault on your neck.  "Hah...  U- Uncle T...  Please... B-! Bite me...!" came your plea, causing the man's breath to hitch.

Trevor had stiffened at that, froze, and he actually pulled his head away (causing you to let out a disappointed whimper) just to gape at you oddly.  "Come again?" he grunted, obviously put off.

Whining, you arched your back again impatiently, tilting your head to the side and exposing your neck fully to him.  "I-... I said, _'_ _Bite me!'_ Please!!" you begged, eliciting no response from the shocked man.  It was then that you let out a frustrated groan.  Figuring none of your requests would be fulfilled until you explained, you hurriedly did so, quite breathlessly, "I-... I want you to make it hurt... Mmm..." A pause came when you began to grind your own crotch against the obvious bulge beneath you.  Then you continued through a half-moan, " _Hurt_ me!"

A few more torturous seconds passed before Trevor let out a wicked, throaty chuckle that made you shudder.  In a husky growl that sent goosebumps across your heated skin, your boss mused, "Man, you are one kinky little slut, aren't you..."  At that you had to bite your tongue in order to suppress a whine.  You didn't like being called a slut... unless it was during sex, in which case it turned you on like nobody's business.  Before you could speak again, you felt a sudden, tight grasp on your jaw, recognizing it as Trevor's rough, callused hand.  The hand forced you to turn your head sideways, with an almost bruising grip, and swiftly you were obliged to look him square in the eye.  The look in his eyes alone melted you into a weak and submissive little thing.  Dominance radiated from them, promising sweet, sick punishment if a single word uttered from his lips was ignored. Finally he concluded, "I  _love_ it," before jerking your chin forward.

A surprised squeal came with being forced into such a marring kiss.  However, as his tongue forced its way through your soft lips, and you tasted the alcohol and the sin, you melted once again.  Though you tried to put up a fight, he was having none of it, easily pushing away your own tongue and attacking it with his own.  Simultaneously he reached down and shoved a hand into the front of your thong, ferociously palming your now-dripping sex.  A throaty, chill-inducing groan from him was stifled by the one-sided tongue war you two were engaged in, as he felt that pungent and slippery substance coat his fingers.  Likewise, a vulnerable, futile whine from you was swallowed by him.  Using what little strength you had, you managed to rip away from the kiss to gasp for air and then moan loudly as he continued to rub your lower lips.  "P-! Please, Uncle T...!" came your pitiful plea, which ended in a gasp as he shoved your head to the side and latched his teeth into your neck.  Immediately a loud cry escaped your swollen lips, which was stifled as he used his free hand to wrap around your throat.  It wasn't hard enough to choke you, but the pressure was still there, and you loved it.  After a few moments, Trevor ripped his teeth from your flesh to shower the newly inflicted wound with kisses and licks.

Between passionate caresses, your boss hummed, "Please what, Princess?"  Now he was taunting you, and you most certainly did not appreciate it.  Whining once again, you deflated a bit, frustrated.  Then he moved his lips so that they were by your ear before rasping into it, "Tell Uncle T what you want..."  Another whine was won from you as he then nibbled on your earlobe.  It was like this fucker knew exactly what to do in order to make you weak.

"Hahhh... P- Please..." you begged hopelessly, searching in vain for the words that would not come.  Your mind was too muddled, your heart was thumping too wildly, and all you could hear was Trevor's throaty breaths in your ear.  Finally, ensuing what seemed like an eternity of fruitless pleasure/torture, you managed to exclaim after finding your words,  _"Please fuck me, Uncle T!"_ _  
_

That seemed to be the magic password.  In an instant - before you could even blink - you were bent over, Trevor was behind you, and your thong was around your ankles.  You had squeaked in surprise as you were forced to bend over, and when you tried to straighten yourself, Trevor shoved you back down.  " _Don't fucking move_..." he demanded you in a threatening growl.  Another shiver rolled down your spine and you obeyed the command you had been given, doing your best to stay still.  It got difficult, though, after several moments of nothing happening.  Whimpering, you could not help but shift back and forth on your feet, the heels of your black bumps clicking with every movement.

"Please, h- hurry--"

" _Shut up_."

The command made you whimper again, but you did not question the dominant man behind you.  However, a few minutes went by, and halfway through the next song that had begun playing, you got fed up.  With an impatient huff, you stood up, your arousal having died down quite a bit and replaced with discontent.  Shaking your head, you looked back at Trevor, beginning to ask what was the hold up, but he cut you off, angrily shoving you back down with more force and less restraint than before.

"I told you not to fucking move, you bitch!!  _Fuck_...!" the man barked, igniting a bit of fear in you.  Letting out a frightened whimper seemed to snap him out of his blind rage, and then he removed his brutal grip from the back of your neck and stepped back.  "Fuck.  Fuck.   _Fuck_.  I-... I'm sorry, okay?" Trevor grumbled, less than thrilled of his obligation to apologize.  You, meanwhile, were less than thrilled about the bruise that was surely forming due to his roughness.  Pouting, you stood up straight again, harrumphing softly as you went to take a seat in the large chair.  However, as you sat down, you were greeted by the sight of Trevor, standing just a few feet away, with his half-erect member firmly in his hands.  He was sweating, and he looked more frustrated than you.  Immediately you got the notion that while you were bent over like a whore, waiting to be fucked, he was standing behind you jacking off.  Then you scowled at him, and you gave him a 'You had better explain yourself before I walk out that door and never look back' expression. Quickly he did indeed explain, albeit reluctantly and without making unnecessary eye contact.  "Look, sweetheart, I'm, uh... I'm...  _older_ than you, let's just say, and... Well, when a man reaches a certain age, that man has a bit of trouble... uhh..."

Now it was your turn to cut him off, as you piped up with a raised eyebrow, "Are you saying you can't get it up?"   Apparently this ticked him off, and he scowled at you.

"I can, too!" he snapped, defensively.  Then he averted his eyes again, trying his best not to look embarrassed. "It's just, uh... hard to keep it that way."  A moment went by without any dialogue, and then the silence was broken by you.  To Trevor's surprise, you let out a cute giggle.  He narrowed his eyes at you, snorting, "What the Hell is so goddamn funny, missy?  Ain't my fault my anatomy don't agree with me."  It took you a minute to compose yourself, yet you couldn't wipe the grin from your face as you replied.

"Oh, nothing," you sighed, shaking your head.  Then your smile faded into a suggestive smirk, and you spoke in a low murmur, "You could have asked me for help, though... I wouldn't mind..."  As you spoke, you kept eye contact with him; his eyes read suspicion and curiosity, while yours suggested lust and mischief.  Simultaneously did you lower yourself off the chair, got on your knees, and crawled closer to him.  Soon he got the point, and a leer of his own crept onto his face, the closer you got.  Then his fingers were in your hair, forcing your head forward.  You hummed, licking your lips before parting them.  Then your eyes left his abdomen and opted to lock with his, feigning innocence.  The sight of you like that made the lust in him return, turning him into that deliciously dominant man once again.

"Mm... You wanna suck Uncle T's cock, 's'that it?" Trevor purred, causing you to let out an audible breath.  Rapidly you nodded, shifting in discomfort as the throbbing between your legs returned.

"Y- Yes, Sir," came your wanton response, reaching up to grasp his cock.  You wanted nothing more than to suck him off, in that moment, but he smacked your hand away and you whined slightly.  Your reaction pleased him, and he let out a throaty chuckle.

"Open your mouth, Princess; I'm gonna fuck it," the older man ordered, causing another sudden breath to escape you.  As your mouth opened from that exhale, he took his chance.  Firmly cupping the back of your head with both hands, he thrust his hips forward suddenly.  Despite yourself, mostly due to surprise, you choked and wrenched your eyes shut; his cock penetrated your lips and rammed into your throat.  Again and again and again he thrust into your mouth, causing whimpers from you and numerous hisses and groans from him.  "Oooh,  _fuck_.  Yeah, baby, choke on it," Trevor growled, looking down at you through half-closed, hazy eyes.  He was breathless by now, desperately fucking your throat and degrading you with his words.  You couldn't help but love it, and you cracked open your tearing eyes to peer up at him.  The sight of you locking eyes with him made the brunet's breath hitched.  "Shit, don't close your eyes," he ordered, his control slipping and his words more desperate than before.  Instead of closing them, you widened your eyes, giving you a pure, vulnerable appearance as you gazed up at him.  "Fuck...!" he swore, suddenly yanking his cock free of your lips, eliciting a whine from you.  A line of saliva connected the tip of his cock to your lips, and you licked it away.  He was rock hard, now, and you had never wanted anyone more than you did him in that moment.

"Nnn... Trev-" you began, but winced and immediately rushed to correct yourself, "Uncle T... Please..."  Your pleas did not fall upon deaf ears, nor did they cause Trevor to resort to a sadistic bastard again.  By now he was as wanton as you, and wordlessly, breathlessly, did he help you to your feet before pushing you backwards and onto the chair behind you.  Licking your lips again, you spread your legs, putting your glistening entrance on display for him.  Groaning at how wet you were, Trevor grasped his length and pumped it rapidly as he spoke to you in a breathy voice.  "Tell me what you want, Princess... Tell Uncle T what you want..."

"Mm, Uncle T, please...!" you begged, shifting for better access as he grabbed your calves, which were in the air.  "Please fuck me!!" 

That was all it took, and in one, swift movement, Trevor entered you, bareback.  "Gahhhh,  _fuck_!!" he hissed as your inner walls clenched around him.  You, meanwhile, were left holding your breath, frozen and unable to speak.  Sure, he wasn't the biggest you had ever had, but no one had ever filled you so completely.  As opposed to the other men you slept with (including your ex), Trevor actually used his entire body to fuck you.  His legs were used to propel him forward, while that and his weight provided the inertia required to send him so deeply inside of you.  All the while, those damn eyes were locked onto yours, clouded with an almost violent amount of lust.  You felt like cumming just due to his gaze.  "Yer so fuckin' tight, Princess..." Trevor breathed, bringing you back into reality (at least enough to hear him).

"Nnn... U- Uncle T," you mewled, "f-... fuck me!"  No complaint or resistance came from Mister Phillips, and he pulled his hips back until only the tip of his cock remained inside you.  Before you could take a breath, the wind was knocked out of you once again as he rammed into you.  Not a second was spared before he impaled you: again, again, again.  Soon you were crying out over and over, and he was groaning and grunting as well.  It wasn't long before he struck you where it almost hurt, it felt so damn good.  "Ah!! Fuck! There!  _There!_ Please, Sir, f-!  _Ah!!_ " 

There was no warning or teasing remark; Trevor must've wanted to hear you scream, and indeed you did.  He hit your G-spot, dead-on, and now the pleasure was so euphoric that it ached.  Your mind went numb, your sight was a blur of colors, and your heart was beating so hard you thought it would burst.  Over your near-deafening heartbeat, the sound of Trevor speaking just barely registered in your brain.  "Hah... Yeah...  _Fuck_ , you feel so fuckin' good," he growled, pushing your legs back and nailing you at an even better angle.  Your throat felt raw from screaming so much, and you felt the heat pooling in your stomach about to explode.  You were already so close.

"Ah! Ah! F-!  _Shit_... I-!  I'm gonna cum!" you warned shrilly, causing Trevor to smirk and let out a raspy chuckle. _  
_

"Oh yeah?  Says who?"  he teased, slowing down his pace.  At this you grit your teeth and opened your teary eyes to glare at him.

"Don't you fucking dare," you hissed between your clenched teeth.  Oh, how you hated being denied your climax; it was quite possibly one of the most disappointing things you have ever experienced.  Thankfully, Trevor didn't seem to push the topic any further, and instead he snickered before quickening his pace again.  It wasn't long before you couldn't hold back any longer.  Your eyes wrenched shut, your fingernails just about gouged out the arms of the chair, and your inner walls convulsed.  Teetering on the brink of orgasm, you managed to creak open your eyelids (from which dripped a few droplets that formed due to sensory overload) and gaze up at Trevor.  Your gaze held no lust, no passion, and no anger, which was what you usually felt during such intense sex.  Instead, your eyes glistened with a sheen of what Trevor perceived to be as vulnerability, desperation, and a yearning for compassion.

As Trevor noticed this, and as the both of you built up to your climax, his face softened greatly.  The look in his eyes matched the one in yours, and for a moment - that brief instance that felt like time had stopped, the world had frozen, and an entire era had passed, when in reality it was a fraction of a second - all you saw was each other; everything else faded to gray, and there was only you and Trevor.  Both of you held a locked gaze even when your nether regions suddenly contracted around his, and you didn't break the eye contact until your vision exploded into white.  You tossed your head back with a harsh gasp that was torn from your throat, and your entire body stiffened.  Through your parted lips you cried out, "Ooooh, God!!   _Ah!_ Trevor!!"

Meanwhile, Trevor's mid-orgasm actions were the complete opposites of yours: his hips moved at an impossible pace, his eyes locked on your exalted face the whole time, and through his own lips came breathy grunts and groans.  Then you felt him suddenly pull out, and you gasped at that, then gasped again as you felt his semen coat your lower abdomen.  For quite a while you simply sat there, basking in the afterglow of what you had just done.  Then, after a bit, you lowered your face, still panting slightly as you creaked open one eye.  Confusion consumed you in your hazy, post-orgasm state as you were greeted by the sight of an empty room.  Trevor was gone, and for a moment you wondered if you had fallen asleep.  Just as you were about to get up and go search for your boss, he walked back in, fully clothed and looking completely neutral.  Odd.

"Alrighty, I got yer clothes, yer bags, and some tissues, to, uh..."  He gestured to your lower body, which was soaking wet.  Suddenly you felt rather self-conscious, blushing and crossing your legs whilst averting your eyes.  "...yyyyyeah," Trevor finished awkwardly.  You thanked him in quiet mumble, then sat in silence for a bit even after he left the room. Soon you numbly got dressed in your normal clothing, your mind plagued with worry.  Why was Trevor suddenly acting so weird?  Why did you care?  What was this feeling you were starting to get for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was that. I did not plan on this being that long, nor did I picture it taking me so long. Also I decided Trevor has ED because that concept makes me laugh.


	5. What a Nightmare...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, this can't be happening... Not again. You escaped him. Why is he here? Why do you feel so helpless? Why can't you escape?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh my goodness I'm so sorry for the delay please don't hurt me I love you so much muah muah muah. I will shut up now and let you get to the long-awaited chapter, but I have to warn you, it probably isn't what you were expecting... Also...  
> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES DESCRIPTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE, EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, AND NON-CONSENSUAL SEX. READER DISCRETION IS VERY MUCH ADVISED.  
> ...  
> ...I'm sorry.

All you could feel was pain.  Before any of your senses could even work properly, and before you could move a muscle, all you knew was that horrible, agonizingly strong ache that flared throughout your entire body.  Though you couldn't quite process it, you knew you had been out cold just a few moments prior.  The fact that you were lying down, sprawled out on your back, eventually registered in your mind.  Soon after that did you realize not only was every inch of your skin throbbing with pain, but it was cold as well.  Was there a draft, wherever you were?  No, that wasn't it... Wait a second...  Were you naked?  You were.  Not only that, but you were wet.  Your thighs, your stomach, your face... all dripping with some sort of liquid.  With what, you could only imagine.  After all, before you fell asleep, you were...

Wait.  What  _were_ you doing?  Where were you?  Why were you naked?  What were you covered in?  A trickle of something dripped down your cheek, running across the corner of your mouth.  Though you could barely find the strength to move the muscle, your tongue swiped out to taste the unidentified substance.  Blood?  You were bleeding?  What happened?  A groan left you as you rolled onto your side and coughed, feeling more blood drip into your mouth at the action.  Grimacing at the metallic tang, you clicked your tongue in a vain effort to rid of the flavor.  Then you noticed your sight coming back to you, slowly but surely.  The black spots in your vision gradually faded away, revealing a small, dimly lit room.  You squinted, even the presence of such dull lighting irritating your sensitive eyes.  Soon, you could open them enough to see the room a bit more clearly.

_I'm in..._

Your eyes widened with realization.  It dawned on you.  The place you wish you'd never been to, the place you never wanted to return to - this is where you were.

_No... It's not possible..._

No, this can't be happening... Not again. You escaped him. Why is he here? Why do you feel so helpless? Why can't you escape?

Interrupting your thoughts came the dreaded, nauseatingly familiar sound of the creaky old door of the ratty old room swinging open.  Through the doorway stepped the one person you thought you would never have to see again. Your ex-boyfriend, the leader of The Ballas gang and owner-operator of a statewide franchise for all things illegal, Darius Stevens: better known as The Big D.  Behind him followed his two personal goons, Big F and J.D.

"Welcome home, bitch," your ex greeted you, walking over to the nearby couch and plopping down onto it.  Big F closed (and locked, you worriedly noticed) the door whilst J.D. made his way to the seat beside his boss.  All six of the men's eyes were fixated on you, and none of them looked happy to see you.  "Thought you could just run out on us, babygirl?  Huh?" Darius snarled, nudging your face with his dirty sneaker.  You gritted your teeth, weakly shoving it away and pushing yourself up onto your knees.  He merely let out a "tck" as you crawled backwards, into 'your corner' of the room, where you had always cowered in fear upon the return of your gangster boyfriend.  A whimper of fear left your lips as Darius stood and approached you, menacing as ever.  Instinctively, you tried (and failed) to back up further into the corner, tried to get away, tried to escape.  But he just kept walking forward, and you knew what he was about to do.

"Darius... B- Baby, please, no, I didn't mean to-" you tried to plead, but were cut off with a smack to your already bruised and bloody face.  The hit caused you to yelp, and you kept your head in the direction it was hit, afraid to look him in the eyes.  That got him mad.  You didn't like it when he got mad.  It only made things worse.

"Don't 'baby' me, you stupid bitch!" the drug lord snapped, causing you to wince and cringe.  "You think you's a badass bitch, huh?  Think you can just run away from me?  Steal ma fuckin' money?!" As he yelled at you, his face got closer and closer to yours, so you turned it away in fear.  You felt like you were drowning in terror, helpless and alone, with no one to save you.  "Fuckin'. LOOK at me when I'm talkin' to you!!" he demanded, raising a hand as if to hit you again.  This caused you to cry out and flinch away again.  And that only angered him more.  "I  _ain't_ gon' _tell_  you again, bitch.  Fuckin'. LOOK at me! NOW!!"  With that command, he reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.  You whimpered again, but did not dare fight back.  Once you were finally (albeit reluctantly) looking into his eyes, you were met with those angry, ruthless orbs of dark brown that you tried so hard to hide from.  Oddly enough, you had initially fallen in love with that very feature of his.  His eyes seemed cool, at first: mysterious and determined, unafraid and deliciously dangerous.  But now those same eyes promised nothing but pain and punishment.

"I'm-! I'm sorry...!" you choked, already feeling yourself beginning to sob.  The tears rolled down your cheeks and ran over your cuts, stinging them with salt.  "I'm sorry... I'm sorry...!" was all you could say, repeatedly and pathetically.  With an unflinching, cold expression, Darius watched you break, listened to you sputter out random apologies, kept your chin in a bruising grip.  A few moments went by before the sadistic bastard straightened up, releasing your chin as he did.

"You sorry.  You  _sorry_ , huh?  Prove it," he gnarled, causing a lump to form in your throat.  You knew what he wanted, and you knew that he was going to get it.  No matter how hard you begged or fought back.  Just as you had expected, Darius reached down and unzipped his pants.  Your eyes widened in further terror as his cock, already half-hard, fell out of its confines.  Instantly you started shaking your head, panicking and scrambling to get impossibly further away from the man.

"No, no, no!!" you shouted, turning your head away as he stepped closer - as his cock came within a few inches of your mouth.  "Leave me alone!  I don't love you, Darius!" you wailed, tears streaming down your cheeks.  The cuts burned, but that was the least of your worries at the moment.  "I don't want this!!" 

"Psh.  And when did I ask what  _you_ want?" Darius scoffed as he grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head closer.  "Suck it, bitch!" he demanded, to which you clenched your eyes and tried to turn away.  Of course this only angered him more.  You knew that would happen, but somewhere in your mind you simply couldn't believe anyone that claimed to love you so much, once upon a time, could ever actually be hurting you like this.  Maybe, you childishly figured, if you kept fighting back, he would simply let you go.  That made no sense.  You knew that, too.  But, fuck, you could barely breathe at the moment, let alone think.  Yanking you from your thoughts (quite literally) was Darius, who forced your head closer, pinched your nose harshly and forced you to gasp for air.  He took the chance and shoved his dick in your mouth, invading it and making you cry a stifled cry.  A gag left your throat as the tip of his penis rammed into it, making you want to hurl.  No pause, no mercy, no second to breathe was given to you.  He fucked your mouth the way he always did: hard and rough.  Your throat quickly became sore.  You felt disgusting at how little you gagged.  The fucker had diminished your gag reflex into near nothing, through hours on end of abuse.  You tried to scream, but his cock muffled your cries.  You thought about biting down, but you knew that if you did, you would be dead before you could blink.  J.D. and Big F were still there.  Watching.  Waiting.  Waiting for their turn.  Like always.  Nothing had changed.  This was how it always was.  Now your vision was fading, your breathing was hindered, and your mind became a swirling vortex of nothing but pain and misery.  You were trapped.

After what seemed like an eternity of merciless throat-fucking, Darius tugged your head back, freeing his cock from your lips.  You took the opportunity to inhale sharply, gasp and cough.  Then you were kicked to the floor.  Herded to the center of the room.  Darius wasted no time in pinning you to the floorboards, one hand around your wrists with a ruthless grip, one guiding his cock to your entrance.  He went in dry, quick, and hard.  You tried to scream, but his hand was over your mouth before you could make a sound.  Your cries now muzzled, your eyes clenched, and your hole filled, Darius fucked you.  He didn't make love to you.  He didn't have sex with you.  He used you.  Like a bitch.  Like a hole.  Like you were nothing.  Your entire body ached and screamed for a break, but he didn't let up.  Even as he reached his orgasm, he didn't even have the decency to pull out of you.  Instead, just as he always did, he entombed himself deep inside of you and buried his face in your neck as his seed surged into your deepest crevice.  You turned your head away, letting out a muffled sob as he growled into your ear, still fucking you through his climax, "I know you like it when I cum inside you, bitch.  You love it when I put you in yo' fuckin' place.  And you too much of a ho' to be satisfied by me, so now I gotta let ma' boys fuck you, too.   _And you gon' love it, ain'tcha, bitch?"_

And just like that, he left you.  He left the room.  He left you to be abused even further by the two goons that watched the whole damn thing.  One assaulted you from behind while the other force-fucked your throat.  They laughed like the sadistic bastards they were as your orgasm was stolen from your body.  They told you that Darius was right:  _"You really are a fucking whore."_

Then they left you, too.  All alone in that dank old room, crying and aching, covered in blood and sweat and cum.  You were curled in the fetal position on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest and weeping into them.  A hand on your arm made you jolt up, greeted by a dark silhouette that seemed familiar somehow... You squinted- and whether it was your tears or the shitty lighting, you couldn't tell - but could make out no features of the figure.  It had its hand reached out to you.  It spoke, but not out loud.  It was like it was coming from inside your head, the voice.  Such a rough, masculine voice that should've terrified you.  But for some reason, it comforted you.

_"Come on, Princess."_

Princess?

The only person who called you that was...

* * *

"D-... Daddy...?"

There was silence.  Then, a distinctively booming laugh erupted from the man beside you, causing your eyes to shoot open.  Your head whipped around and your frame stiffened.  For a moment you were completely unhinged from reality.  Then that voice spoke again, yanking you back into your body.

"Now, Princess, I'm all for nicknames and shit, but  _that's_ taking it a little too far, don't'cha think?" Trevor quipped.  Trevor.  It was Trevor that saved you in your dream.

Trevor?  Dream?  Had you fallen asleep?  A quick look around suggested, yes, you had indeed passed out on the way home... Home? 

_Home..._

Instantly your eyes filled with tears, and you threw yourself at the rugged man - who was standing beside the truck, holding your door open - and slinging your arms around his neck.  Before he could shove you away, which seemed to be what he was about to do, he was frozen in place as he felt you weeping loudly into his chest.  "Oh, Trevor!!" you sobbed thankfully.  "I thought I was-!  And he was-!  And you were-!"  Every sentence you tried to get out was interrupted with a gasp or a hiccup.  You were a mess.  Trevor stood there awkwardly for a few moments, hands in the air as if unsure where to go, before finally and ineptly resting on your upper back. 

"Errr.  There, there..." the man mumbled.  He was obviously not too great with human interaction, let alone comforting a crying teenager.  "Uh... It was just a bad dream?" he offered, prying you off of him and stumbling back a few inches.  You stood there, wiping your tears away messily, and nodded in agreement.  Your newfound boss then hesitated a moment before sighing and shutting the vehicle's door.  He approached you, neither of you saying a word as he scooped you up into his arms.  You merely curled up, hiding your face in his chest and quietly sniffling every now and again.  No words were spoken as he carried you inside, into his bedroom (shutting the door behind him), and to the bed.  Laying you down gently, the man turned around and started rummaging through one of his drawers for something.  You silently watched him, still a wreck, shivering from anxiety and fear.  It shocked you, how quiet he was being.  After all, the Trevor you perceived him to be would be making hurtful jokes and brutal remarks about your current condition.  However, he said nothing.  He merely turned around, a neutral expression on his face, and placed some clothing on the bed beside you.  As you stared at it in confusion, Trevor got increasingly uncomfortable with the silence and eventually cleared his throat with an uneasy cough.  "They're, uh... They're mine, so they'll be a bit big on you... but they'll do for now.  We'll go shopping tomorrow for some shit you need, I guess."

In silence did you sit up, pick up the baggy sweatpants and large t-shirt, and examine your designated pajamas. He watched you nervously, as if afraid you would be angry.  To his surprise, you merely looked up at him with a grateful smile, standing.  Your arms went around his torso as you hugged him, resting your cheek against his shoulder, looking up at him endearingly.  "Thank you," you murmured sincerely.  If you didn't know any better, you would take Trevor's wide eyes and tense jaw (and was that a bit of pink tinting his cheeks?) as a sign of embarrassment.  But no, the great Mister Phillips was too proud for humiliation.  And so he resorted to his default expression, a sly smirk, and wrapped his arms around your waist.

"No problem, babe.  Long as I get to watch you change," he purred.  Again, to his surprise, you merely giggled.  You could feel his entire frame go stiff as you leaned up and planted a chaste kiss on his lips before pulling away and giggling at him.  He stood there, gawking at you, completely lost, as you stripped.  You didn't put on a show and you didn't draw it out.  Simply off with your clothes (minus your underwear; you kept those on) and on with his.  Then you grabbed his hand and led him to bed, sitting down and scooting backwards so that he could crawl in beside you.  He seemed to be caught in a trance, unaware of your actions as he was too busy staring at your face.  It wasn't until you were settled down beside him, underneath the blanket with him, and resting your head on his chest that he suddenly began a coughing fit (obviously due to how awkward he was clearly feeling) and went to move away.  "Ah, yeah, anyway, g'night and everything, I gotta go take care of some shit, so if you'll just-"

You silenced him with a kiss.  He was tense at first, but soon he relaxed beside you.  Then he even returned the kiss for a few moments before you pulled away again and buried your face in his neck and snuggled up to him.  He probably watched you for a bit, and he may or may not have left you, after that, but you didn't know.  After all, moments into the quiet cuddling did you fall fast asleep, drifting into a dream that was far less terrifying as the one you apparently had on the way home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand all done! Again, I want to sincerely apologize for how long it took to upload this. I won't go into detail, but let's just say some shit has been happening on my end. Also, without the lovely Archive author PorkChop, this chapter probably would've never been uploaded. Because I'm lazy. Anyway, yeah! I wanted to reveal some of Princess' backstory, as well as reveal what a giant fucking douchebag her ex was. Maybe Trevor will kill him later. Probably. Once he figures out what the bastard did to his favorite stripper whoops. [spoilers lmao] OKAY, so, that was a thing! Leave kudos and comments for more, I guess. :D


End file.
